Monday, August 18

One of my younger friends, Shakia, is about to turn 23. That old already! Oh, no! Wait... didn't I go past that age about 23 years back? May be I did, too. And, she feels old. Too old to miss the carefree old Shakia who ran around with kids and had ice-creams. Ah! She even misses being 5.

Shakia, dear, I am there with you. I miss being 5, too. And, I don't miss being 23 at all. I still miss running on the wall (yes, on the wall, mad me so feel like Spiderman), ice-creams (they didn't have Baskin Robins or Move'nPick back then, but they indeed had ice-creams), tennis balls (we turned them into soccer balls, and played in the living-room), and the trekks down to the playing field (it seemed so away from home). I miss it all.

That's partly why I get down to the floor whenever I can, and play with children. I don't pick them up to carry them on my shoulders, as I don't want to feel bigger and older than them. I still love those spinning tops and marbles (and, no, I'm not an expert... I still handle those like a 5-year old).

I would always be 5, if I can, as much I can. I'll fight with kids, I'll be jealous of them, I'll have respect for kids who are better than me (and, most usually are). There's only one slight problem. Not many people recognize that. The gray in my hair and the dulled out eyes, the wrinkles around the corner of the eye and the creaks in my bones tell them simply I can't be anything but old. Well, I refuse to be.

Then comes the tough part. When I fail to meet the expectations that come with my age, some of them go and hate me, some go scared, and some more laugh their heads off at me silly. They can't help taking me seriously.

Do I care? Yes, I do. And, that's why I miss being 5 so much.

Thanks, Shakia, for reminding me who I am - a little kid caged in a aging crumbling rotting body. Pray for that kid in me, and the kid in you, too. I am happy to have recognized that kid in you, even before we decided to talk to me. Happy birthday, kiddo, 30 days in advance.

Sunday, August 17

Once or twice a year I tend to reorganize my wardrobe, as I am sloppy and hate to fold clothes I end up with this huge dump. And while searching for a certain garment I have to dig like crazy, often I'd end up with something else. Now fashion is one of the things I want to least spend my time and money on, but it seems to have become my shameful weakness, need to admit my feminine sides.

So it took me about 2 days to get my wardrobe back to a civilized state, though I took very long breaks inbetween. Sometimes because of pure laziness other times because of frustration. Ended up sighing, yelling and cursing myself badly. "WHAT WAS I THINKING WHILE BUYING ALL THESE?!" Wishing that some thief would come in and just empty up my wardrobe or that I'd give it all away to charity.

To top that I have my sub continental dresses too! It's not enough that I need to have trousers, tops, dresses, skirts, winter clothes then summer clothes... But to add selwar kamiz and sari and not just one or two pairs. But one in each colour, fabric and designs!!! Then matching shoes and bags... AAAAA... It never ends!!!

I seriously wish I was born into a guy, specially time like these! Do you guys end up with these kinds of issues? No! It wouldn't even matter if you had ripped jeans and a greasy t-shirt which you wash once a month! Ah... If life was that simple!

Now I am pretty content with the amount of garments I own, so I've decided that I wont buy/ask for more. I will try to live happily with the amount for the next 2-3 decades!And Apu if you are reading this, just so you know the only useful thing has happened since you moved to Australia, I've got more closet space! Your room is the offical dumping place. Thank you!

Saturday, August 16

There is exactly one month left for my birthday so I've thought it be fun to dedicate these 31 days of writing to myself as a tribute for the 23 years I've lived.

Somehow it feels like my life will take a drastic turn the coming years. The carefree, childish me who enjoys running around with kids and eating ice cream, will have to face adulthood. Sitting still at one corner, have a decent civilized conversation about the worries of a 23 year old girl should have. (Thinking about this makes me feel 5 year old again)

I'd stop time if I could, but as that is impossible I have to be satisfied with my writing. Probably in future I'll read these posts and remind myself of the young me.

Tuesday, August 5

The more I socialize, the more I get confused of which crowd I actually belong to? Yes, yes I know I mention that I seek for my own island, but having my own island leaves me alone as well...

My upbringing has involved a lot "DO NOT's" from both family and society. Where I sucked in everything, to every tinny detail, like a sponge. But now growing up, steping into the adult crowd, these "DO NOT's" seems more like an obvious thing to do nowadays!

There is group A, the "jewels" of the society I breathe in, that makes me feel utterly backdated, the loser geek that has no life. In various occations I've tried hard enough to follow their track, the modern/chic/commercial life style. But ended up, being the inkspot on a white crisp shirt. Even before my mind realizes, my body stops myself from taking another step, as I know my limits are not as broad as theirs.

Then group B, the "saints" whom I really admire, but I feel a bit too fast for their tempo. My liberal thoughts might not be as appreciated. Which leads me to nowhere!